


Back to Black

by Larpopular



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Beer bottle, Cheating, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mention of dad, No happy ending here, Poor John, Sexual Abuse, im evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larpopular/pseuds/Larpopular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off Amy Winehouse's song. Lyrics will be posted at the end</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to Black

 

_Should’ve listened to dad_ ran though his head over and over again as he stared up at the ceiling. The mold on the white peeling paint from years and years of leaking and not being taken care of. Though in contrast to the walls with several holes in it from fists and gun bullets, plus there is that green stain that ran down it from leakage. The ceiling looked better.

 

  
_Should’ve listened to dad_ of course looking back on his own life and how he got to this point of low, there was only one cause. The name of the man stuck on his dry thick tongue. Cotton mouth, that’s what he was. His mouth dry, tongue heavy. Though in honesty he liked it. He liked the feeling. It was better than no feeling at all.  
Should’ve listened to dad he thinks back to the man. Who’s name is the name he had said several times in the last four years. Nut there were five times that name impacted him the most, leaving him the mess that he is now. He could count them down.

 

  
_One_ it was when he first met the man. The man we will call D for now. He was no older than sixteen when he first met D. But, then D was quiet and kept to himself. Not wanting anything to do with the cotton mouthed young man. But he wasn’t cotton mouthed when he was sixteen. Oh no. He was a talker. A dreamer. He had ambitions and goals. Funny, how all those dreams and goals ended because of D. It was that weekend. The best memory the young man had. Well, of D that is. He smiled at the ceiling thinking back. It was hot, very hot. He was sitting on the. Couch when D sat next to him. He thought nothing of it then. But now he wished he would’ve told D off. But as he thought about it, remembering how D touched him. How his lips was so soft and his touches gentle. The young man couldn’t help but feel like an idiot. D knew what he was doing. All along D had intentions and he acted on it. He took the young man’s virtue that day. Leaving him a mess. And the memory of D's soft breath and the feel of those soft lips against the shell of the young man’s ear as D whispered his name. Because the young man asked of course. But as he thought about it he would do it again. And again. Just to have D want him like that again.

 

  
_Two_ it was graduation. The best day of any high schoolers’ life. Besides getting laid. But D came. The young man mailed him a ticket. not sure he would come but sure enough he did. That was the day he asked if the man wanted to stay with him. Though he knew the young graduate would say yes while being balls deep in him, hidden in the parking garage. His name was said in moans that day

 

  
_Three_ it was the first time D's true colors were shown. The two were in a night club. Celebrating the young man’s acceptance to a college he had been working his ass off to get into. That was the night another man stepped on D’s territory. Though to be fair the young man didn’t know D owned him. Or the fact that he was owned at all. Another man decided to dance with the young man. A little grabby as well. Though the young man didn’t mind since him and D hadn’t had sex since the graduation day. But D minded. It was then that he realized who he was living with. D, the man who would take another male out back and beat him near to death. D the man who would hit the young man for just having fun. D the man who took a beer bottle and raped the young man with it in the alley way. The man screamed D’s name that day

 

  
_Four_ the young man realized after two years of their fucked up relationship, that D was calmer when he had his meds. Not prescription not doctor ordered. But to subdue a man like D, it should be. D’s nose candy was the young man’s God. Prayed for it to never run out. The sweet cloud of smoke that fell down like snow. The taste bitter like Lucifer’s kiss to the lips that was no longer soft but now ruined and cracked. Bruised beyond repair, no longer satisfying but now a cringe worthy sight. It was his rock, the only thing D had to lean upon when things got rough. The flake was sometimes too much for D, sending him into a mess that made the young man hope he would die from. But D was strong, he always won at the end. But that was his medication. And the young man was more than pleased to get it for him. But it wasn’t until the young man experienced his own medication. Though his was a gentle release warm and welcoming. Then again, puff always was. At first, until it sucked you in. Everything is simpler with it. He said D’s name when asking for more.

 

  
_Five_ he cheated. It wasn’t that much of a surprise. Though with the drug use and the raping and beatings. The young man didn’t expect D to cheat. The young man caught him with D’s ex, in the bed he shared with D. He yelled and screamed. Throwing things only to be hit and blamed. He was blamed for not being good enough to satisfy D. But that was a year ago.

 

  
_I should’ve listened to dad_ he was back to saying it again. One good memory, that was it. Then again not even that memory was good. D was a pedophile, rapist, abuser, drug addict and abuser. How did the young man get sucked into this? Simple. He was young. He thought he knew everything. He thought he knew right from wrong, good from evil. But he didn’t. Because there would be days D was good and days where he was bad. The worst of it was the young man felt like he was slipping. Slipping into the habits of D. He hit a girl. No older than thirteen. Only because she wouldn’t show her tits to the young man while he was drunk. He hit her good, breaking her nose and sending her on her ass.

 

  
_I should’ve listened to dad_ but that’s the funny thing about falling in love with a man who hurts someone and that person doesn’t leave. That person begins to be in the wrong. They both become evil. But is the young man truly evil? He grew up Catholic, disowned for coming out a gay. But now, he was truly going to hell. That ceiling began to fade. Finally, after so long he felt… happy.

 

  
_I’m sorry dad_ it was his last thought before he died. The empty pill bottle falling from his hand as he laid on the bed that represented years of nightmares. He was free from D. He would have never escaped any other way. He had tried. D found him. Had heated him and brought him back. D may own his body, but not his soul. His soul was free. To rest in eternal slumber and bliss. Though if had stayed Wake a little longer, he would have been stopped. He would have had a chance. Because D entered rehab. Signed up for couple therapy. D wanted the best for the young man. But none of that matters after years of torment. It doesn’t take just a day of I’m gonna do better baby to fix what happened to the young man.

 

  
If only he waited. For D to enter the house only to be arrested. For D to see the dead young man and scream. D being taken away by the cops because a neighbor finally decided to call the cops on the abuse. Though that girl would never know what would have been. Because she was late. She wanted to be the young man’s friend but now she will never be his friend. She was late. She was years too late. Months too late. Weeks too late. Hell even days too late. If only she called yesterday. But that didn’t atop her from shoving past the cops running to the young man and screaming his name. The young man would never have the memory of his own name being said. Being needed. Never knowing his name could be as strong as D’s but in a different, much better way. He would never here her say it out of love, irritation, laughter, or even pleasure. She would never here her cry out…

 

  
“JOHN!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He left no time to regret

Kept his dick wet

With his same old safe bet

Me and my head high

And my tears dry

Get on without my guy

 

You sent back to what you knew

So far removed from all we went through

And I tread a troubled track

My odds are stacked

I'll go back to black

 

We only said goodbye with words

I died a hundred times

You go back to her

and I go back to

 

I go back to us

 

I love you much

Its not enough

You love blow and love puff

And life is like a pipe

And I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside

 

We only said goodbye with words

I died a hundred times

You go back to her

And I go back to

 

We only said goodbye in words 

I died a hundred times

You go back k to her

And I go back to 

 

Black

 

 


End file.
